Every Single Room
by SlipperbackTub
Summary: Violet realizes she and Buddy have had sex in almost every single room in their house. SYNLET. Oneshot.


**Warning:** In case you have your dA filter turned on, this is just a forewarning: Hilariously bad sex is to follow, this is to get my mojo back for writing smut. There's swearing, there's sex, some arguments, and oh yeah, MORE SEX.

I strongly recommend skipping this oneshot altogether, seeing as its terrifically bad and really only used as writing purposes. That being said, if you ARE a brave enough soul to proceed, keep in mind that I haven't written smut in, like, three years. So I am ruuuuuuuuusty. O_O

**Every Single Room**

* * *

The very first night the moved in they made love on the mattress in their bedroom, their joined noises echoing slightly in the emptiness of the house, and Violet couldn't help but cringe every time she heard how embarrassingly loud she sounded. He had that effect on her, for reasons unknown – there were times when they spent all day just rolling around in bed, cuddling and cooing and talking, and there were other times that they spent fifteen minutes attacking each other. One time, she had jumped all over him in an elevator.

This was their first house, the first one they had gotten together, and the best bed. It was a creaky old mattress which dipped in the middle, the one which Violet had lugged from her parent's house and thrown defiantly into her bedroom as she swore off men of all types; two months later, she was curling her toes and sinking her nails into Buddy Pine's back as he thrust into her. He had that effect on her too – she couldn't get enough of him, even when they were so pissed at each other they could do little else but snarl.

She liked the house; loved the house, actually. It was big and spacious, full of airy open floor plans and two spare bedrooms for "reasons unknown", Buddy had said with a smirk. Right now, one was a guest bedroom and the other was Violet's office, but she was fairly certain they could clear both out in case something came up. They had gotten it together, and it was this more than anything that shook Violet jarringly and told her to wake up, that Buddy was in love with her.

He still surprised her. It bothered her sometimes, that she never knew what he was thinking, and constantly asked to better know the inside of his head.

He had pounced on her when she was retiling the bathroom – apparently, she looked incredibly sexy when she wore cutoffs jeans and was kneeling on a floor, up to her elbows in grout. Buddy had informed her of his as he nipped her earlobe sharply and unbuttoned aforementioned cutoffs.

She had started a fight in the kitchen, and the two of them were all up in each other's faces, Violet standing on tiptoe so she could shout more easily at Buddy's face. He had kissed her then, fiercely and harshly, making her shut up as he thrust a knee between her legs. She had nearly pushed him off, snarling how he couldn't win every argument with sex, but once he pulled her shirt off and began drawling open mouthed kisses between her breasts she had to admit, _yes_, he won every argument with sex, because sex with Buddy was _fantastic_.

Buddy had come home from work one evening to discover a weepy Violet curled up in a corner of the living room, with a scorched cake pan flung across the room. She had tried to make a birthday cake to surprise him but had burnt it beyond recognition, and had thrown a silent, dangerous tantrum. He gathered her into his arms and the two of them had snuggled for a minute or two, while Violet's tears dried, and then Buddy began edging up her shirt; she had swatted his hand away at first, saying something about every day ending in sex, but in the end she had given up, because _who_ could resist those baby blue eyes full of innocence?

He had come home one day to discover a Violet fresh from the shower, dressed only in a loose satin kimono while she vacuumed with her wet hair in a knot around her neck. Buddy had groaned a little, dropped his keys, and attacked her. They had screwed right there on the hall rug, with the vacuum cleaner in the background – the poor old Hoover ended up running for nearly an hour, because afterwards they were both too tired to move an inch.

Violet had been determined to yank Buddy out of his office one day, since he had spent over forty eight hours with no sleep or food, and it was positively unhealthy to spend that much time obsessing over blueprints. In the end, they didn't make it out of the office, since she had come in wearing those certain blue jeans that Buddy had first seen her in, and, well, Buddy just couldn't help himself.

They entertained one evening and the party was such a great success that Violet pinned Buddy to the dining room table and wouldn't let him up for almost half an hour. That was one of their violent evenings, with Violet's neck bearing a handsome hickey and Buddy's back being lined with pink scratches from Violet's nails. Buddy had quipped that they should entertain more often.

Besides all those places, there were hundreds of moments in their bedroom, but the living room couch was also another popular occurrence, since they often couldn't make it _all the way_ down the hall. Not to mention that one time Violet had gotten rather drunk and jumped his bones in the parking lot of a bar, which Buddy hadn't minded in the least but Violet was eternally embarrassed for afterwards.

But musing in the big porcelain tub, Violet realized there was one place they hadn't had sex. And it was sort of…taboo. Her office was a neat, pristine place, full of schedules and humming laptops and occasionally a new gadget from E or Chester. It was interesting, Violet decided as she raised one lathered leg above the bubbles, that she could tally up almost all the times they had fucked. She wondered if Buddy could.

"Not worth it," She muttered to herself. "Not going to try and get in his head again."

* * *

Buddy dropped his keys in the dish beside the door, pulling off his jacket and mumbling to himself. Board Meeting Days were especially frustrating, since he usually did the presentations for his company and had to explain to the suits why his experiments would make them so much money. Of course, they didn't know that over half of the experiments he tested weren't for his company, but for his supervillain sideline. But hey, it was his company. If he wanted to, he could stand in the lobby wearing a chicken suit giving out lollipops and technically nobody could say anything to him.

With that happy image in mind, Buddy hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes, shambling down the hallway towards their shared bedroom. There was a football game on tonight, and although he wasn't interest in sports, he liked watching patterns, and there were very few things on television with better patterns than football. The house was big and quiet, and the silver-haired tabby which he had gotten Violet for her birthday purred as Buddy absently cuffed her head lovingly. Einstein was a pretty little feline, and although she had been originally intended to be Violet's pet, she spent every night curled up at Buddy's feet.

As he passed down the hallway, he saw his fiancée in her office, staring at a computer screen.

He knew when she had a hard day, and he knew when she had good days – the hard days she stayed in her office, working the frustration away, and on the good days she was in the kitchen cooking some inedible recipe trial. But he hadn't seen her like this; she wore an oversized blue hoodie with gray drawstrings, and she was chewing on one of the strings absently as she stared at her computer screen. She wasn't typing or reading, just sitting on her swivel chair with her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on top of her kneecaps. Her hood was pulled up and halfway cinched, giving him a very limited view of her pretty face.

"Vi?" He asked.

"Mmph." She grumped, and he saw the small movement of her toes wiggling beneath the desk.

Violet painted her toenails when she was feeling inadequate or walked over, and he knew when she experimented with makeup that she would be a sentimental mess when he walked in the door. After nearly a year together, he had come to known all of her little telltale signs of her moods, and it fascinated him the way she followed all of her subconscious idiosyncrasies down to the letter.

"Bad day?" He asked, and the Violet-in-a-hoodie made a movement that might have been a shrug.

Buddy came into the dark office, closing her laptop lid and plunging everything into semi-blackness. His sharp ears detected a little sniffle.

"Just one of those days," She said, her voice sounding thick.

Buddy had discovered there was an anomaly with his lover, and now that he had determined the symptoms he wanted to find the cause, and destroy it, because frankly he didn't like unknown situations. "Your father again?" He asked. Bob Parr hadn't been exactly forgiving of his daughter for falling for the man who tried to kill them all, and especially not when Buddy remained being a supervillain instead of trying to find a higher moral ground. Their friction was legendary at holidays.

"No." She muttered. "I'm okay, Buddy. Go to bed."

"Sit up properly and let me look at you." He said flatly.

She shook her head, hugging her knees tighter. "I'm _fine_."

"Violet, you've painted your toenails, which you only do when you're feeling depressed, you've taken a bath and shaved your legs, because I can smell that aftershave I used to use but stopped using ever since you mentioned you liked it so much, and you also tried to braid your hair, which you've never done, and I can tell because your hair is still wavy. I'll say it once more: What's wrong? And don't make me pry it out of you like last time, because I'm sick to death of these goddamn secrets."

In answer, Violet started to cry quietly to herself.

He blinked. He had seen her _cry_ before, but he had never been the one to make her cry. Usually he snapped her out of it by encouraging her with threatening tales of what he could do to the person who made her cry, but what was he to do now?

"This is what I'm talking about," Violet said thickly. "You know me so well, and you know exactly what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it, and I don't know _anything_ about you. I know what mood you're in when you walk through the door, but I don't know what you _think_. And I don't know how you act when I'm not around. It sucks sometimes."

She swiped her oversized sleeve across her little nose and turned away from him.

Buddy snorted. "So you're crying because you don't know what I _think_?"

Violet's temper flared. "Oh, go ahead, make fun of the non-genius," She sneered. "I'm sorry I can't match your superior intellect, oh Mighty One."

"Hey, _enough_," He snapped, catching her around the waist as she tried to storm out. "That wasn't an insult. You're not a little girl, sweetheart, so stop acting like one. You're upset because you don't know what I'm _thinking_?" He said, still not quite grasping why she was so upset.

"Yes," She snuffled, and pushed her hoodie back. He was right, her hair was still wavy, and she was still faintly scented with male shaving cream, something he found incredibly fitting and sexy on her for reasons he didn't know. Her black hair was very frizzy from being kept in a hoodie for hours. "I just…I worry that you'll get _bored_ of me. There's got to be more interesting women you meet." Her voice was very small. "And I _know_ I'm being a little girl, but I just want to say this for _once_, instead of wondering and wondering." She turned away from him, and tried to get away again.

There was nothing romantic about Buddy's tone as he rapped out, "Violet, I love you. I'm not going to get bored with you, I'm not going to trade you in for a newer model, because I fucking _love you_." She was staring at him with those big violet eyes, very still, flickering over his face as though trying to decide whether or not to believe him. "I don't meet more interesting women during the day because you're the most fascinating thing I know. I've picked you apart and gone over your brain and treated you terribly and embarrassed you in front of everybody you know, and yet you _still_ stay with me. I know your habits and conflicts, I know exactly what you'll wear in the morning and what you'll eat for dinner, but I still haven't _figured you out_. And it bothers me, okay? It bothers me in the worst kind of way, because no matter how well I know you, I'll never know you well _enough_ to suit me."

His blue eyes were burning into her now, and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You want to know what I'm thinking. Hell, sometimes even I don't even know what I'm thinking – I'll find myself staring at you and realize I've wasted half an hour trying to discover why your eyes do that when you're working on a problem."

"Buddy, you're scaring me," Violet said hoarsely, still staring at him.

"Good."

She pulled away from him then, got completely out of his grasp before he grabbed her hard and yanked him close. "Whatever you want to say," He rumbled, "You can say while looking at me."

Violet shuddered – he scared and thrilled her when he was like this. This dominant, forceful, bewilderingly honest man was the man she was going to marry someday. And it made her feel warm and twisted all at once.

"I…" She broke off because her throat closed up. "I don't… I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I just…I don't think…"

There were a thousand other things he could tell her. _You stutter when you're close to me. You bite your nails when you're around my business associates. You cross your legs when you're around your father, and put your hands in your pockets when you're around your mother._

After what seemed like an eternity, his face softened, and the lines around his eyes relaxed. "Shh," He breathed, tucking a frizzy tangle of hair out of her face. "Relax. I'm sorry I shouted at you."

She dropped her head to his chest and sighed, and he felt her body loosen in stages. "I know. I just feel…one sided."

He pressed a kiss on the crown of her head and he felt her arch her back a little when his hand swept across her hip. Telltale signs again – there were the obvious signs, like the languid strut she had unconsciously developed when she wanted to get his attention (and always received it), and then there were the subtle signs, like bumping his hand with her head like a cat. There was something distinctly feline about the way she moved as well, a kind of hurried slink, like she couldn't quite believe this big house was all hers.

"We'll be one of those corny old couples that have been together since forever," Buddy promised, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and then hesitating to rub his thumb against her cheek.

He was always so forward about his feelings, so up front about everything. She wished she could be so bold, but truthfully, she was just a coward. Violet felt the tears threaten again, and was grateful when Buddy plucked at the hem of her sweatshirt.

"What is this? Your self-pity sweatshirt?" He asked dryly, pushing it up to discover she wasn't wearing a shirt beneath the sweatshirt.

"Sort of," Violet admitted, feeling one of his big hands sweep the sweatshirt upwards even further. "I won it at a raffle when I was a kid, actually, and since I was one of the last people to select a prize I got stuck with – ah!"

He cut her off by sliding his mouth over her ear and nibbling gently. "Go on," Buddy murmured, and Violet felt that familiar burn in her belly.

"Not sure I can," She breathed, and then tried to continue. "So I got stuck with – mm! – this big old thing, and I wear it when – oh _God_…I take a bubble bath…" He had pulled off the sweatshirt, no doubt the quick work of his dexterous hands, and she discovered her nipples were taut already. It was impossible to continue when he had her pressed against the desk and one warm palm cupping her breast gently; it was difficult to imagine this ruthless, conniving supervillain stroking _anything_ so tenderly.

"Bubble baths, hmm?" Buddy purred, and closed his lips around one beaded nipple. It suddenly became difficult to breathe, and Violet felt her sweatpants becoming too tight in a vaguely familiar, delicious way.

"Yeah," She huffed as he dragged a lazy thumb over her opposite breast while he continued to flick his tongue against her nipple, "Mm, ooh, b-bubble baths are – Oh!" He bit down lightly and assuaged the mild pain with his continuously soothing motions. "…Good for the weekends," She finished, lightheaded when she realized Buddy was pushing her against the edge of the desk. Violet perched on the corner, wrapping one leg around his solid waist as she leaned back.

"You know what else is good for the weekends?" Buddy told her darkly, sliding his hands over her clothed legs.

"A good book?" There was a draft as her pants joined the sweatshirt on the floor. She shivered, not quite because of the sudden temperature change, and pressed closer to him.

"You."

He slipped a finger in her, just the tip, and she let her head fall back. Buddy had some wickedly agile fingers, and he manipulated her perfectly, eliciting another little keening noise from her lips as he twitched his fingers. There were plenty of things she loved about him, but his fingers had to be near the top of her list, simply because he could – mm! – do _that_ with them.

"You're wearing too much," Violet told him, unknowingly driving him absolutely insane with that husky, desire-laden voice.

He smirked at her and kissed her as she sat up to loosen his tie, his hands roaming delightfully over her hips as she unbuttoned his shirt. For some reason, she delighted in unbuttoning his shirt, and he enjoyed wearing dress shirts to further engage this little game she liked to play. She used his tie to pull him down for another kiss, and he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders in a moment.

_Skin on skin._

Desk sex wasn't something Violet usually engaged in, since she went wild for the feeling his Buddy's skin against her own, and since having sex on a rigid corner usually didn't allow for much contact she tried to avoid it. But she had been feeling so down all day, and so damned depressed, that it was more important to just get him inside her _now_, and they could cuddle later. They had discovered early in their relationship that both of them were cuddlers, for reasons they didn't want to know.  
She unbuckled his belt and heard him step out of his jeans, and then dragged him down for another kiss as she kicked her panties off, leaving them to hang around one ankle. He was pinning her again, hitting her hard with those baby blue eyes which somehow always went midnight blue at times like these. Buddy bit his lower lip hard as he pushed into her, something she always found completely adorable, but she was distracted at the sudden _fullness_. Everything wrong in the world turned right when they were connected, and Violet only waited a second before arching her back.

He loved the sounds she made.

Little mewls, sometimes soft keens, but mostly just muffled moans as she tried to keep her personal feelings to herself for the first five minutes. Even now, she tried to keep her cards close to her chest, thinking that someone was cheating or watching. He dug his fingers into her hips as he tilted her sharply, making those lips open in the first full, beautiful cry she had made that evening. She linked her ankles around his waist, and Buddy slammed back into her again, satisfaction creating a crease between his brows. She was close, he could feel it, and bit her neck as she tightened hard around him, shuddering powerfully in the grips of her lust.  
That _face_…The face she made just then, her eyes closed, kiss-swollen lips parted, eyebrows knotted together, the expression of pure _bliss_ decorating her face…that face should have been carved in Grecian statues.

His own edge built and approached, and she could feel his steady rhythm becoming more erratic and his thrusts becoming shorter and tighter; her nails usually dug into his back, but she trailed them up his spine lightly, tangling her fingers in his fiery red hair once she reached the nape of his neck. The tickling sensation was too much, and Buddy broke, his grip on her waist tightening powerfully. The raw strength of his shoulders tightened, and Violet watched in lazy satisfaction as she saw him deal with his own climax; unlike her, he never tried to store his emotions away in little boxes – she could see the smugness and rampant desire right on his face.

After a moment, he dropped his head to her shoulder. "I think I fucking love that sweatshirt," He panted.

Violet found this hilarious.

* * *

It was several hours later, approaching the small hours of the morning, when they finally made it to bed and Violet got her skin-to-skin. She snuggled against him, silently rejoicing in the complete and utter envelopment of herself, cocooned in warm blankets and _him_. He pressed a kiss against her shoulder and felt his eyes closing.

"Do you know we've had sex in every room in this house?" Violet told him sleepily, nodding off already.

"What, are you keeping a tally?" He asked groggily.

"No. Just thought you wanted to know."

"We'll have to start expanding our locations, then," Buddy murmured against her shoulder. "I'd like to have sex against every single _surface_ in this house."

"Mission accepted," Violet whispered, already half asleep. "Tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N**: _Wow! You made it this far! You probably skipped over the smut scene, which is good for your brain and sanity, but STILL! Wheeee~! Now, go grab some brain bleach, because I'm sure you need it! _


End file.
